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@Sol GrimHeh, thanks!
@Cyrania, I scrapped the dark elf idea and came up with this lady instead. Let me know what you think!



You're the boss. I'll hammer one together tomorrow.
Keep in mind though that we've barely introduced The Muse's character into the game at this time and we are not a fast paced game here. It might take a while to introduce your character into the setting.


You did just start a major barfight, I am sure someone local on the ground would be helpful to you?

If not, I can wait, no rush to hammer a CS together. I prefer a slow burn RP anyway, gives me time to keep up and produce meaningful work.
What kind of character would you be interested in being?


I suppose a rogue might be cliche, but that seems to be describe what I was thinking. Not a crazy arrogant type, but the type who flows neatly under the radar and gets done what s/he needs to get done. I noticed everyone just got to Not!Tortuga so it would be a place she could run into them.
You folks still looking for more characters? If so, I would be interested in putting together a Dark Elf out of Roh.
Maria started violently when Brandt shouted her name, nearly shooting herself in the foot as she slotted another bolt into the crossbow. The shrieks of dying goblins, coupled with Priskas' screams as she flailed at the face of a dead greenskin, served only to make the scene more chaotic. She could feel her head spinning. It actually seemed more intense than the siege of Lurch, at least then she knew what she was fighting. She had never fought a goblin in her life.

She darted her glance in the direction of Brandts' gesture and saw the fat bulbous body of a spider scrabbling up a lower branches of the tree to vanish among the higher foliage. She cocked the crossbow and aimed it at the tree, searching for some sign of the creature. Next to her, his eyes wide with fear, lips peeled back over his teeth, Roderick was turning another goblin into mush with a mighty blow. The silver was flaking badly now and she could easily see where his weapon had struck his opponent as small pieces glittered in the light, turning end over end like a hundred small stars in an empty space of mist.

She was suddenly aware of a pair of red eyes watching her from the tree, a sharp nose and huge ears making the creature look ludicrous. Feathers appeared to be sprouting from a band around the creatures head and she assumed that this was the creature Brandt had indicated. It was snarling at her, making a strange high pitched yelping sound she did not understand. A small spear was clutched in one fist and it appeared to be deciding who to throw the weapon at. She quickly raised the crossbow and centred the end of the bolt on the face. Brown eyes met red ones and she saw fear cross the sharp green face. She shifted her aim slightly below the face and pulled the trigger.

The crossbow gave a flat "thawck" sound as the bolt hurtled through the air, the vicious metal edge hammering into the goblin chieftain just below the chest. Several leaves were torn loose from the tree and they floated slowly after the goblin as it gave a pitiful shriek and tumbled from the branches to land with a thump near Priska. The terrified girl, already hysterical, redoubled her screams and began to punch the dying creature in the head.

In an instant the goblins turned and fled howling into the forest. They left behind small mounds of tangled green ears and black spiders legs that marked where more than a dozen had met their end at the hands of the small party. Even Priskas' screams died away as Jurgen hurried to her and wrapped his huge arms around her. She sank into muted sobs against his chest as he stroked her hair and made soothing sounds. The sound of their breathing was loud in the near silence, their breath coming as white jets of steam in the cold air. None of them had realized how chill the night had become. The mist itself had moved on, gliding away among the trees like some ethereal creature.

Roderick was staring at his hammer in amazement. The silver that had once made it appear as a cheap relic had almost completely vanished from one side and he found himself staring at the Mark of Sigmar, cunningly crafted into the iron head by an unknown smith. The weapon showed no wear on it from the short fight and the serrated teeth on the hammer head were almost sharp to the touch. This thing was no relic, it was a weapon worthy of Sigmar. He could feel his heart pounding loud in his chest, from the fight or the discovery of such a weapon, he did not know.

"I hate goblins..." Maria muttered as she moved closer to him. He reached out reflexively and pulled her into a one armed hug. She did not resist and came willingly enough into the embrace, though she did not lower her crossbow. Her small quiver was almost empty now, only four feathered shafts stuck out by her waist.

"No one likes goblins." Muttered Brandt who was staring at his broken hammer nearby. It had split in the last short moments of the fight and without a forge it would be impossible to repair. Roderick had not even seen it break and he quickly offered his own weapon to the blacksmith, the man was a much better soldier than he was. The smith shook his head.

"No, thank you. I think that weapon suits you just fine." He touched the head and the rune that suddenly seemed stark in the moonlight. "Besides, I imagine there is at least one decent weapon among this lot."

He had begun to rummage through the dead goblins and Roderick took the hint. He freed himself of Maria and began to search the small corpses as well. Maria set about retrieving what quarrels she could from the goblins she had shot. Lord Waldo had slumped down on a small log and was resting his head in his hands. No one bothered him.

They found some cash, not shortage of useless weapons, and one solid weapon that Brandt declared was goblin trash, but it would suit him anyway. It was better than nothing. Maria actually found an armoured tunic that would fit her well enough, though she brushed it throughly with handfuls of grass to remove as much of the goblin stench as possible.

It took some time but at length Priska was able to speak normally again. She avoided their gaze but the arrogance seemed to have gone out of her at last. She stayed close to Jurgen as he spoke with Lord Waldo before turning back to the other three.

"We will go on." He stated in a flat voice. "We will look for shelter and try to get some rest." He turned and began walking north with Lord Waldo and Priska in tow.

After a moments hesitation the others followed but Brandt and Roderick could not miss Marias' muttered words. "Why are we still following them around? We don't owe them anything."
@RubyThank you!
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Some Time in October, Salisbury, Rhodesia
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"Abraham, welcome, please, join me." Byron Starr stood, towering over the older black man. Starrs' face looked like a slab of ham, the shaved bald dome of his head crisscrossed by dozens of scars. The man played rugby in his spare time and it was clear he had tried to tackle more than one person with his face on multiple occasions. The battered look often led people to underestimate his intelligence.

"Thank you, Byron," Abraham smiled as he spoke, his teeth white against the dark colour of skin. "I hope everything is well?"

"Should it not be?" Byron replied as he sat in a plush armchair, gesturing for Abraham to join him in the second chair on the small veranda overlooking "Government Park", a large green space surrounded on all sides by federal office buildings. This was the heart and soul of the Rhodesian nationstate.

"I was unsure if you had decided to "unforgive" me after I failed to obtain a place for you in the African Union. If I can use a word like unforgive."

"Ah, heh, no." Byron gave a good natured chuckle that sounded like boulders rumbling down a hillside. "We fully expected to be rejected, but we tried, and now I don't have to feel guilty about telling our neighbours to pound sand when they want something for free."

Abraham nodded, lowering himself into the other chair with a sigh. The park in front of him featured several small lakes, a river, and an amazing collection of Rhodesian plant life. He had been fortunate enough to walk the shaded paths on numerous occasions and still found an obscure joy watching the small primates that called it home run freely through the boughs of the massive Khaya trees.

"I don't imagine you just asked me here to watch squirrel monkeys..." Abraham let his words die away as he eyed the big whiteman.

"No, I did not." Byron replied with some stiffness and Abraham felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "I wanted to talk to you about the troubles you're having with Communist rebels in the Empire."

Abraham was surprised, the Rhodesians had always been very careful to keep their nose out of the internal affairs of other African nations, officially at least. He was well aware of the airstrikes and special forces raids into neighbouring countries, though he didn't blame them at all. He would have done the same in their position.

"What about it?" He asked carefully, not quite sure where the other man was going to take the conversation.

"Let us be frank, Abraham. The Empire is more or less losing this fight. I have my suspicions as to why but I won't test our friendship by suggesting those reasons to you."

Abraham nodded. He knew that the Rhodesians held the Imperial family in contempt at pretty much every level and did not need to ask who Byron was referring to. It was perhaps lucky they just happened to hate communists more.

"I invited you here today to offer your our support, militarily that is." Byron finished his sentence rather quickly as he leaned back in his chair to observe the Ethiopian. The man was handsome, in his late fifties, and probably the Ethiopian most trusted by the Rhodesian government.

"You want to offer us support?" Abraham asked the question to buy time as his mind mauled over the idea.

"Yes. I think, pardon the expression, but as one of your aides said of me, better the devil you know."

Abraham laughed at that. He remembered the incident clearly. He had been relatively new to his post in Rhodesia when he had first met Byron, after which his aide-de-camp had made the comment.

"I understand. I imagine Rhodesia is not to keen on Communists running rampant." Abraham had composed himself and made the comment carefully. Communism was popular among the black rebel factions in Rhodesia and they had killed plenty of people. It was only in the last month that Rhodesian special forces had managed to ambush and kill the final significant black communist inside their borders. He felt sympathy for the rebels, not as communists but as people wanting their country back. He also acknowledged that the white Rhodesians were part of Africa and a right to exist as well. It was a tangled mess he danced carefully around. Byrons' youngest son had been killed by communist soldiers two years previously.

"Quite." Byrons' reply was short and the flicker of pain on his face told Abraham that the two men had been thinking along the same lines. "They are a stain and we will hunt them to the ends of the earth."

"What do you offer Ethiopia?" Abraham brought the conversation back on track. He observed a vein beginning to pulse on the edge of the white cannonball head and knew the signs of stress well enough.

"Aircraft, artillery, and naval support if you need our fast destroyer." Byron shifted his attention swiftly back to the matter at hand and was businesslike again. "We aren't willing to commit any serious ground force but I have been authorized to suggest a large contingent of support units."

Abraham tilted his chin back as he thought for a moment. The Rhodesians were eerily skilled with what resources they had at hand. Their messy divorce from the British Empire had made them very self sufficient and he had often thought of them as an army with a nation. Their war with the Portuguese had taught them the value of aircraft and since then they had assembled one of the finest air fleets in the world. In his minds eye he could see the Rhodesian aircraft ripping through Ethiopian skies to send communist forces fleeing. It was a tempting image. Abraham, though he rarely spoke of it, had four sons in the army. He personally believed they would be much safer with a highly professional airforce on their side.

"I can only say I am thankful for the offer, as are my boys." He swallowed a lump threatening to rise in his throat. "I will certainly convey the request to my superiors. Exactly what forces can you provide?"

"I am told not to provide exact numbers until we receive a confirmation, or otherwise, from your government. For obvious reasons."

Rhodesia had survived through paranoia and preparation. They trusted virtually no one and Abraham could guess just how deeply the their hatred of communists ran if they were willing to support the Imperial faction.

"Very well, I will pass the offer to my superiors as soon as I have returned to the office."

Bryon smiled. "Excellent. Victory or Death."

It was a Rhodesian battlecry and Abraham had no doubt that they meant it.
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